


Second Best

by Blurhawaii



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blurhawaii/pseuds/Blurhawaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bed shifts when Kimi moves to sit next to him. He shoves Sebastian’s shoulder in warning but he’s heard this a thousand times over. And it never sits well with him, all this resentment. Though, with no alcohol in sight to dull his emotions, Sebastian knows he’s going to need an outlet of some kind.</p><p>When he kisses Kimi, he’s thinking maybe this is all he needs in life. Having Kimi’s undivided attention feels a lot like winning most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Best

“Congratulations.”

The only reason Sebastian lets him in is because he comes bearing gifts. If he’d arrived empty handed, he would have had the door shut swiftly in his face. But now, Sebastian gladly accepts the weight of the bottle that Kimi pushes into his chest and moves aside.

He doesn’t bother to glance at the label, he only knows that it’s something local before he unscrews the lid and takes a huge gulp. The alcohol brings tears to his eyes but does nothing to dull the conflicting fire in his stomach. The hand Kimi brushes against his hip in greeting doesn’t help either.

“I didn’t expect to see you after today,” Sebastian says once the burn has lessened, and when Kimi answers with his best impression of a frown he adds, “Well, neither one of us had the best race so -”

Kimi cuts him off, waving his hand as he passes. “That’s over now,” he reassures him. “Why worry what you can’t change.”

And Sebastian allows a small smile at that because isn’t that just the philosophy these days; accept the shit races and move on. It’s a mentality, Sebastian admits, he’s finding difficult to fall back on.

He takes another pull of drink, coughing when it overpowers him, and he’s acutely aware of Kimi’s eyes being on him when he tilts his head back, craving more of both.  
It’s weird, coming third never used to hurt this much.

*

“Sixth is better than ninth,” he says plainly and what gets Sebastian is that he means exactly that. There’s no self-depreciation with Kimi, just matter-of-fact. But what he simply doesn’t understand is how anything less than first now feels like a colossal failure to him.

Sebastian shrugs, despondent. “Well sixth still makes me a fraud,” he sighs because, hell, he can be bitter enough for the both of them.

The bed shifts when Kimi moves to sit next to him. He shoves Sebastian’s shoulder in warning but he’s heard this a thousand times over. And it never sits well with him, all this resentment. Though, with no alcohol in sight to dull his emotions, Sebastian knows he’s going to need an outlet of some kind.

When he kisses Kimi, he’s thinking maybe this is all he needs in life. Having Kimi’s undivided attention feels a lot like winning most of the time.

Kimi freezes at first, leaning back on his hands, but he always does. He may play the fool for the cameras but there’s a real intrapersonal intelligence hidden away in him and, right now, he’s taking his time weighing the pros and cons of giving in.

Don’t go to bed angry, some people say, and a similar vein of thought is currently giving Kimi pause.

Something must tip the scales in the end because he eventually opens up under Sebastian’s mouth, offering comfort in one of the few ways he knows how.

And Sebastian doesn’t waste a second.

He threads his hands through Kimi’s hair, wishing, not for the first time, that it was longer, that there was more to grab, and drags him closer as best he can. It’s a familiar thrill having Kimi’s lips move against his and, like a shot of tequila it both soothes and burns as stubble grates against fainter stubble.

Sebastian licks down his jaw, stopping only to nip at pale skin when the urge strikes but even now, when he’s got this amazing distraction, his thoughts slip back into their old rehearsed pattern. 

“Fucking sixth,” he breathes into Kimi’s neck and he can feel the skin under his mouth vibrate when Kimi answers, “In the points,” reminding him of what a pathetic child he’s being.

The thing is, Sebastian understands. It’s just not enough.

*

“How do you do it?”

Kimi’s breath hitches in his throat when Sebastian punctuates his question with a rough jerk of his hips. Face hidden away under the shield of his own arm, it takes a moment for Kimi to remember to answer.

“Ha?” he grunts, his body tense with pleasure and he’s clearly annoyed that conversation is being pulled out of him at a time like this.

But instead of repeating himself right away, Sebastian digs the hand he has on Kimi’s thigh in a little deeper, while the other reaches for the arm Kimi has draped over his face. When he tries to move it away, he’s met with resistance and a knee presses painfully into his ribs until he backs off. But Sebastian can’t. He never can. He pushes and pushes, stretching the limits, good and bad, he always has. So his fingers are tight around Kimi’s wrist as he pries it away from his face, whether Kimi accepts it’s happening or not.

There’s fury on his face, for sure, but it soothes away so fast Sebastian swears he could easily have imagined it. The sheer magnitude of shit Kimi manages to sweep under the rug will never fail to blow Sebastian’s mind.

He just doesn’t understand and, as always, ignorance often leads to anger.

He lays his palms flat on Kimi’s chest and snaps his hips forward, fucking Kimi with a quick unrelenting rhythm while repeating his question through gritted teeth.

“How do you do it? How do you stay so fucking calm?”

It feels too good but at one point Sebastian’s hand slides off his chest, slick with sweat, and he falls forwards, catching himself on the pillow by Kimi’s head. And in the shock and sudden relief, Kimi blinks up at him, his breath coming hard and fast.

Finally something like annoyance stares back at Sebastian and he feels vindicated. That is, until Kimi starts pushing at his shoulder, forcing him away.

“What? What?” Sebastian asks, panic hitting him. He’s firmly stuck between wanting to pull away and the desire to push him back down and it worries him. “What?”

“Can’t do this,” Kimi says flatly, attempting to sit up. “Not when you’re like this.”

And Sebastian immediately flushes with shame. 

He drapes his fingers lightly over Kimi’s shoulders as he shifts and tries to squirm his way out from underneath him and Sebastian feels like the worst person alive. Kimi retired out of the race today and here he is beating them both up over an eighth place finish.

“I’m sorry, alright,” he says, fully aware that he’s begging. “I’ll stop talking. I will.”

He then surges forward to press a kiss onto Kimi’s temple, his cheek, his mouth, any part he can reach and begs without words. He thinks it’s over when a hand turns his face away but instead Kimi just settles back on his elbows with a sigh.

“You’re annoying,” he says without preamble and Sebastian nods in total agreement. It’s undoubtable true. “So stop thinking,” he adds, “and fuck me.”

Sebastian ducks his head up and down faster than ever and says, “I can do that.”

After that, all thought surrounding today’s race leaves his head. When Kimi reaches up to pull him back on top, he goes willingly. When Kimi runs his tongue across his bottom lip, he forgets he’ll ever have to race again. When Kimi whines directly in his ear, he briefly wonders if he even remembers how to drive.


End file.
